that, if there was anything to know. On the other hand Rex was kind of a snoop. Maybe he knew something I had no clue about. He was definitely a sort of a snoop. And he was precocious. So there we were. It ended when Rex produced a coughing fit. He’d been crying, of course. He was asthmatic. It was a complete impasse, and we were all exhausted so we just stopped talking to one another and ate cornflakes for dinner. Except my father. He didn’t eat.”
Iris said, “You’re sweating. But please don’t blot yourself with the sheet. This story is very extreme. You’re upset.”
“I am. Let me get a towel. I’m perspiring. Put on the airconditioning for a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”
Iris attended to the airconditioner. Ray went again into the bathroom.
When they were back in bed, Ray said, “After all this time you still hold your palm over your shame when you walk around naked.”
“Only sometimes.”
“What governs when you do it versus when you don’t?”
“Search me. But I think I know why I did it just now.”
“Why?”
“I want to hear the rest of this story and I think I didn’t want to distract you.”
“But what about your breasts, which are twice as distracting?”
“Well, if I covered up everything it would have ended up calling even more attention to the, um, ensemble. I guess. Besides I don’t know if my breasts are twice as distracting as my shame. My breasts are not what they were. On the other hand my whatnot is exactly what it was and it was always very good at distracting you. But I think the discussion we’re having right now is unwise, I mean, on this subject matter.”
“It distinctly is. But your breasts are perfect. And that’s all I’ll say.”
“Let’s be wise
. We’re talking.”
“Right.”
He waited. “Well, notice something about this situation Rex created. It was another manifestation of his genius in arranging events that are basically indescribable. Like eating the crucifix. Suppose my father had wanted to talk to a child specialist of some kind. Was he supposed to say that the problem he was having was that his son had written a criminal history of the family and buried it somewhere on the grounds? Impossible.
“So, dinner. We’re all emotionally ravaged. My father had been savage, emotionally. Not something any of us had ever seen. We all drag ourselves to bed, ostensibly. But a little while later I hear something and I go to my window and someone with a flashlight is out there—my father, digging. No, the digging was later. That first night he’d had the inspiration that Rex had pushed this canister into one of the drains set into our retaining wall. There were about twenty of these and he was out there probing them with a broomstick. It wasn’t a bad idea to check them. My father was out there for a long time. And no luck. It was the middle of the night.
“No, the digging was later. We had a big lot and only the parts close to the house were really landscaped. There was a patio on one side, the lawn and fish pond were on the other. But the bulk of the lot was given over toground cover, ice plant and some other creeper that gives you purple flowers in the summer and attracts hordes of bees. The digging was sad because my father felt he could only do it at night, when he wouldn’t be seen by the neighbors. He was afraid to do it during daylight. And people would have wondered. He had never done any part of the yard work. We did it, Rex and I, what there was. Lawn mowing.
“And the digging was going on, of course, because Rex was still absolutely defiant. Rex knew this was going on in the middle of the night. How could he be so cruel? This went on for … at least a week. Maybe two weeks. My father sits down opposite Rex at breakfast, stares at him, tells him in a steely voice that today is the day Rex is going to tell him where the tube is. Then he changed it to saying Rex was, that day, going to bring the tube to him, and then it
Iris said, “You’re sweating. But please don’t blot yourself with the sheet. This story is very extreme. You’re upset.”
“I am. Let me get a towel. I’m perspiring. Put on the airconditioning for a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”
Iris attended to the airconditioner. Ray went again into the bathroom.
When they were back in bed, Ray said, “After all this time you still hold your palm over your shame when you walk around naked.”
“Only sometimes.”
“What governs when you do it versus when you don’t?”
“Search me. But I think I know why I did it just now.”
“Why?”
“I want to hear the rest of this story and I think I didn’t want to distract you.”
“But what about your breasts, which are twice as distracting?”
“Well, if I covered up everything it would have ended up calling even more attention to the, um, ensemble. I guess. Besides I don’t know if my breasts are twice as distracting as my shame. My breasts are not what they were. On the other hand my whatnot is exactly what it was and it was always very good at distracting you. But I think the discussion we’re having right now is unwise, I mean, on this subject matter.”
“It distinctly is. But your breasts are perfect. And that’s all I’ll say.”
“Let’s be wise
. We’re talking.”
“Right.”
He waited. “Well, notice something about this situation Rex created. It was another manifestation of his genius in arranging events that are basically indescribable. Like eating the crucifix. Suppose my father had wanted to talk to a child specialist of some kind. Was he supposed to say that the problem he was having was that his son had written a criminal history of the family and buried it somewhere on the grounds? Impossible.
“So, dinner. We’re all emotionally ravaged. My father had been savage, emotionally. Not something any of us had ever seen. We all drag ourselves to bed, ostensibly. But a little while later I hear something and I go to my window and someone with a flashlight is out there—my father, digging. No, the digging was later. That first night he’d had the inspiration that Rex had pushed this canister into one of the drains set into our retaining wall. There were about twenty of these and he was out there probing them with a broomstick. It wasn’t a bad idea to check them. My father was out there for a long time. And no luck. It was the middle of the night.
“No, the digging was later. We had a big lot and only the parts close to the house were really landscaped. There was a patio on one side, the lawn and fish pond were on the other. But the bulk of the lot was given over toground cover, ice plant and some other creeper that gives you purple flowers in the summer and attracts hordes of bees. The digging was sad because my father felt he could only do it at night, when he wouldn’t be seen by the neighbors. He was afraid to do it during daylight. And people would have wondered. He had never done any part of the yard work. We did it, Rex and I, what there was. Lawn mowing.
“And the digging was going on, of course, because Rex was still absolutely defiant. Rex knew this was going on in the middle of the night. How could he be so cruel? This went on for … at least a week. Maybe two weeks. My father sits down opposite Rex at breakfast, stares at him, tells him in a steely voice that today is the day Rex is going to tell him where the tube is. Then he changed it to saying Rex was, that day, going to bring the tube to him, and then it
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